


Sick Day

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9175009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: Sportacus gets a cold, and Robbie has his hands full trying to get him torestso he can actually getwell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've managed to come down with a cough, so I decided that if I have to suffer then Sportacus has to suffer too.

It’s very rare for Sportacus to wake up before sunrise. Not even rare: it’s unheard of, unless his crystal alerts him to danger. But he’s been coughing since this evening, and it’s been getting worse, and now he’s folded in on himself and it sounds like he has a lung coming up, and he is mostly definitely awake, and now so is Robbie.

Robbie sighs and rubs his back, gentle but firm circles, until he finally straightens out somewhat and rolls over.

He looks _awful_. Robbie presses a hand to his forehead.

“No fever,” he murmurs, and then adds, “Probably,” because Sportacus’s core body temperature is much higher than a human’s and Robbie has no idea how to tell if it’s too high.

“Computer, body temperature?” Sportacus says, and then starts coughing again. Robbie barely hears the ai’s answer, but it assures him that Sportacus’s body temperature is still in healthy range.

“I’ll be fine,” Sportacus says, softly this time. “It’s just a cough. I’ll drink some lemon tea when I get up and it’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be no such thing,” Robbie says. “You’re coming down with something, it’s this weather, I think, half the kids were seeming peaky yesterday too. You can have your tea in the morning and then you’re going to _rest_.”

Sportacus makes a move like he’s about to jump up, his body protesting the very _idea_  of resting, but Robbie dives forward and catches him around the waist, and the very fact that this _works_  and that he’s not instantly dragged forward by Sportacus completely _failing_  to notice the extra weight is just one more indicator that something is _wrong_. Sportacus pouts down at him.

“But I have to play with the kids tomorrow! The best way to stay healthy is to stay active!” He starts coughing again, and Robbie rolls his eyes.

“Oh for the love of- _no_ , Sportaflop, when you’re already getting sick, the best way to stay healthy is to _rest_  and take _care_  of yourself. And I can’t believe this is _me_  saying this, and if you ever tell _anyone_  I’m putting sugar on all of your apples.”

He thinks maybe Sportacus won’t try getting up again, so he lets go and settles back on the bed. “Now lie back down, it’s still fuck-off thirty in the morning and I need my beauty sleep.”

“Well, you need sleep, anyway,” Sportacus says, and it’s such a gentle and charming comment that Robbie presses a fond kiss to his forehead before tucking the covers back around both of them. They’ll have to have this conversation again in a few hours, when Sportacus tries to sneak out of bed and down to play with the kids anyway, but for now Robbie wraps around him and settles them both comfortably before letting sleep claim him once more.

-/-

Sportacus has gotten very good at getting up without waking up Robbie, who despite having a more consistent sleep cycle still insists on this cycle involving sleeping till noon. So Robbie isn’t surprised when, sometime around nine, he wakes up to find the bed noticeably void of any sick sports elves, and the computer reporting to him that Sportacus is currently making unusually slow laps around the town. Robbie rolls his eyes, because of course he is, and grumbles the whole way over to the platform and down the ladder to the ground.

(One of these days Robbie is going to have a talk with Sportacus about installing a lift, he can’t keep climbing a rope ladder all the time.)

Robbie finds Sportacus right where he expects to, and that’s jogging- _jogging,_ and he doesn’t think he’s _sick_ \- on the path around town. He catches him as he’s passing the Mayor’s house, and Sportacus tries to call his usual “Hi, Robbie!” before Robbie steps in front of him and catches his arms.

Which _shouldn’t_  be _possible_ , so maybe _now_  Sportacus will admit that he’s sick.

“What happened to resting?” Robbie demands.

“I did rest!” Sportacus says, managing about five hundred watts of his thousand-watt smile. “I slept a whole hour later than usual. And now I feel _fine_.”

This last part is punctuated by a coughing fit, which ends with Sportacus almost doubled over again and _wheezing_. It is very fortunate for Robbie that this coughing fit draws out the mayor and Pinkie, though judging by the way Pinkie folds her arms and stares _judgingly_ at Robbie has him doubting this somewhat. He loops an arm around Sportacus’s waist to support him, and Sportacus leans into him in a way that, in someone _less stubborn_  would be a blaring klaxon signalling that he wasn’t okay.

“Oh dear, is Sportacus okay?” the Mayor asks, and Pinkie squints up at him and adds, “Did you do something to him?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Robbie says, and he’s honestly offended because while he hasn’t given up his schemes he _has_  given up on adding elements to his schemes that will put Sportacus in _actual danger_ , and he’d thought that Sportacus’s _protege_ , of all people, would have picked up on that. The idea that he would _willingly_  hurt Sportacus or make him _sick_  almost makes him want to storm away right now and leave Pinkie standing in the middle of the road, and he would if not for said sports elf still leaning on his side.

“Then what’s wrong with him?” Pinkie asks.

“He’s _sick_ ,” Robbie huffs. “And it’s his _own_   _fault_ , because he’s a _moron_  who decided to go _outside_  and _run laps_  around town in the _rain_  and then _not change_  from his wet clothes because he only _owns_  one set of clothes, so now he has a _cold_  and I’m trying to make him _rest_.”

“I had two sets of clothes once,” Sportacus muses. His voice sounds awful, all thick and heavy and rough. “I wonder what happened to the other one?”

What happened is that Robbie accidentally stole it, so he decides to divert Sportacus’s attention by turning to the Mayor. “Listen, I’m going to commandeer your couch for today. I can’t get Sportaflop up to the airship by myself, and the bunker is too damp from all the rain we’ve been having.”

“Oh, of course,” the Mayor says. “My cassa et tu cassa.”

Robbie opens his mouth to correct the Mayor on his awful, botched up phrasing, and then thinks better of it. He tightens his grip on Sportacus’s waist and leads him toward the house, while Sportacus protests that he’s _fine_ , he doesn’t need a _couch_ , Robbie is just being _silly_ , and a mother hen, and worrying over nothing, and while Robbie _ignores him_  because Sportacus isn’t actually able to fight free of his grip and he _knows better_.

Inside, Robbie pushes Sportacus down onto the couch, and Pinkie goes to get him blankets and pillows so they can tuck him in. Once he’s settled, she leans over the back of the couch and pets his head, or what of his head isn’t covered by his hat, and makes vaguely soothing sounds that amount to “there, there”.

“You’ll be okay, Sportacus,” she says. “Robbie and I will take care of you.”

-/-

They dose Sportacus with cold medicine, and soon he falls asleep, so Pinkie gets up to make him some soup, a rich vegetable broth that will be easy on his battered throat and stomach, while Robbie begins rummaging around in the kitchen drawers, apparently looking for something specific, if his half-comprehensible mumbling is any indication. Stephanie puts the lid over the broth and turns to him.

“What are you looking for?”

“Crayons. Coloring paper, too, but mostly crayons. You’ve got some, right?”

“In the arts and crafts cupboard. Why do you need crayons and coloring paper?”

“Because it’s not going to be long before your gaggle of wayward children come looking for their pipers, and I need to have something quiet for them to do already ready and waiting.”

“Their what?”

Robbie shakes his head. “It’s just an expression. The arts and crafts cupboard?”

“Over there.” She points. “What makes you think they’ll come looking for us?”

Robbie gives her a flat look, then turns to the cupboard, muttering something to himself that she can’t understand, and begins taking out crayons and paper. No sooner has he gotten them set up than there’s a  knock at the door. He waves toward it.

“That’ll be them now,” he says. “Tell them to keep it down, if they wake Sportacus up and I have to have the ‘you should be resting’ conversation _again_  I’m replacing all of the sportscandy in your garden with plastic replicas.”

“You wouldn’t!” she hisses, but when she opens the door she shushes her friends before they can say anything. “Sportacus is sick,” she says quietly, leading them inside. “So keep it down, okay?”

“Is he all right?” the smallest pipes up, in what is probably to him an inside voice. Robbie winces.

“Your flippity-floppity blue sports elf will be _just fine_  if he can stop _flippity-flopping_  and actually _rest_  and _get better_ ,” he says, herding the children into the kitchen. “Now you’re all going to stay here and engage in _quiet_  activities, so that you don’t wake him up.”

“Why do we have to stay here?” asks Sticky. “We could just leave.”

“Because if you _leave_  you’re going to get yourself in _danger_  and if any of you set off that blasted crystal of his when he’s meant to be _sleeping_  I will get out my dinosaur costume and stand outside your windows _all night for a week_. Now sit. You’re going to color, and then I’m going to teach you how to play poker.”

“You don’t have to threaten us,” Loud Girl says. The kids take seats at the table. “We _are_  capable of reason, you know. Stingy, pass me the green crayon, would you?”

“But this one is _mine_ ,” Stingy protests. “I need it to color _my_  drawings of _my_  money.”

“There’s enough crayons for all of you,” Robbie says, and sets more on the table. Where he got them from is a mystery; only Stephanie notices, and squints at Robbie before picking up a blue crayon hesitantly.

“I’m going to make Sportacus a get-well card,” she says. “To wish him a speedy recovery.”

“Good idea, you do that,” Robbie says, and heads back over to check on Sportacus.

Sportacus is awake, for a given value of the word, and he reaches for Robbie’s hand when he leans over him. Robbie lets him take it, partly for comfort but mostly so he can stop him if he tries to escape.

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Sportacus mumbles. “They’re just kids.”

“Well, as much as you run after them, they can do something to help you for a change.” 

Robbie kneels in front of the couch and presses his free hand to Sportacus’s head. Still no fever, which is good. He reaches up enough to knock Sportacus’s hat aside, and strokes the soft hair under it. Sportacus smiles and leans into his touch.

“ _Robbie mín_,” he murmurs. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t _spread it around_ ,” Robbie grouses quietly, still stroking Sportacus's hair. “I have a _reputation_ to maintain. I can’t be said to be going  _soft_  or anything.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” Sportacus mumbles, eyes already falling closed again. Robbie fixes his hat for him and leans forward to press a kiss to his forehead, just as Loud Girl comes over to the couch.

“Hey, Robbie, where’d you- oh. Oh _gross_!” She spins and returns to the table with a huff. “They’re being all _gross_  and _smoochy_!”

Robbie hears a soft laugh, and looks down, but Sportacus is out of it again, so Robbie pulls his hands free and stands so he can head back to the kids, shushing their chorus of agreement that Robbie and Sportacus being smoochy is _gross_.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How _did_ Robbie get Sportacus to sleep, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist adding a followup.

By the time the kids leave, Sportacus is in a very deep sleep, and there are several colorful get well cards stacked at the endtable for when he wakes up. Pinkie is in the kitchen, spooning him up a bowl of the vegetable broth, and Robbie is sat in the easy chair, eying her idly. She brings the broth over, along with a glass of water.

"I'm not sure it was a good idea to teach us poker," she says.

"Are you saying that because you genuinely disapprove, or because it turns out Cookie Boy has the makings of a con artist?"

"A little of both, honestly." She sets the food down and kneels beside Sportacus, nudging him gently. "So how did you get him to sleep, anyway?"

"Spiked his cough syrup with sugar, of course."

"Robbie!"

"You had a better idea? Because I didn't hear you suggesting it when he was insisting that he just needed to do _jumping jacks_ _._ I didn't give him much, a spoonful of that broth should bring him right 'round."

"It's still wrong," she grumbles, and carefully spoons a bit of the broth into Sportacus's mouth. She hits it with the practiced ease of someone uncomfortably used to feeding her unconscious caretaker, and Sportacus swallows reflexively before opening his eyes slowly. His crystal doesn't bing! like usual, but it does hum and blink weakly. Thankfully, he doesn't try posing, but he does sit up. He gives Robbie a stern look.

"Robbie, why do I feel like I was just in a sugar meltdown?"

"Because you're stubborn and I'm proactive, of course. Now eat your soup."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still suffering, if anyone was wondering.


	3. Feverish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robbie manages to catch Sportacus's cold. Fortunately he has a good boyfriend to take care of him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still suffering, albeit not quite as much, so I decided it was Robbie's turn.

It takes Sportacus only two days to get back on his feet, the only signs that he was ever sick being a slight rasp to his voice as his throat heals. Which Robbie finds disgusting for a number of reasons, the least significant being that no one has any right to bounce back from a cold so quickly and the most significant that no one has any right to be that sexy as a result of a _cold_.

“But Robbie, of course I got well quickly!” Sportacus says, nuzzling Robbie’s neck and making happy keening noises. He’s utterly ridiculous, and Robbie will swear till his dying day that he doesn’t find it _cute_  or _endearing_  at all. “How could I not, with you taking such good care of me?”

Robbie is _tired_. Two days playing nursemaid to a sick elf- who had at least behaved himself after nearly falling from his own ladder when he got too weak to haul himself up any farther. It had been a wake-up call to get him to stay in bed and rest, but it was one Robbie could have done without, since it nearly gave him a heart attack. He already has nightmares about Sportacus splashing from his airship as it is, he doesn’t need _help_ , thank you very much.

So Robbie is _tired_ , and it’s an utter, bone-deep tiredness that has him staggering his way to the bed and falling face-first onto it as soon as Sportacus lets him go. He stays in that position the entire time Sportacus does his morning workout, humming vaguely along with the dramatic background music that always starts playing whenever anyone in this town does _anything_ -

-and then Sportacus is at his side, pulling the blanket over him.

“Go back to sleep, _Robbie mín_ ,” he murmurs. “I know you must be tired from looking after me. I’ll go to the ground to do my workout, I won’t disturb you, you just sleep.”

Sportacus presses a soft, reassuring kiss to his temple, and then Robbie hears the sound of the door opening and Sportacus hopefully not splashing on the ground below.

He relaxes once he hears Sportacus’s running music pick up on the ground below, blocked out after a moment when the door closes itself. He closes his eyes and lets sleep claim him, exhaustion dragging him down even as he finds his mind contemplating where that music even comes from.

-/-

It’s several hours later when Robbie wakes up, and the first thing he realizes is that Sportacus isn’t back yet. The second is that he’s far, far too warm, and the third is that he’s kicked the blankets aside and is lying sprawled out on the bed. He mumbles a query to the ai about the room’s temperature, and on the third try makes it understand him. The numbers it reads out to him don’t make sense; if the room is supposedly comfortably cool, why is he so _warm_?

He tries to ask that, to tell the computer to lower the temperature a bit, but his words come out too slurred to make sense of and he’s drifting off again before he’s able to concentrate enough to tell it anything else.

-/-

When he wakes up again he’s still too hot, and the covers have been wrapped back around him. Sportacus is back, at least; his sound effects are accompanying him as he does something in what serves as a kitchen for him. Robbie tries, and manages on the second go, to call to him, and Sportacus is at his side in an instant, holding a thermos in one hand and a damp cloth in the other.

“Are you okay, _Robbie mín_? Of course not, you have a fever.” He presses the cloth to Robbie’s forehead, and it feels so nice that Robbie leans into it. “My ship called me and told me that you were feverish so I came up to take care of you. I think you caught my cold, Robbie, I’m so sorry.”

Robbie mumbles something to that that he _thinks_  might be “it’s fine”, and Sportacus shifts to help him sit up. “I’ve got you something to drink but you need to sit up. Small sips, that’s it…”

He helps Robbie sip down several mouthfuls of whatever is in the thermos- Robbie isn’t sure, and he can’t place _any_  of the contents- before recapping it and setting it aside.

“What is that?” Robbie asks, voice a little clearer now. “It’s not _sportscandy_ , is it?”

This gets a relieved laugh from Sportacus. “It has sportscandy in it. It’s an elven remedy, I even put in a little honey to sweeten it for you. It’ll help your fever go down.”

Robbie wrinkles his nose, but it’s on sheer principle; he doesn’t really have the energy for anything else. Sportacus smiles, and helps him settle back down. “There there, you’ll come to no harm by having a little bit of sportscandy for once. Why don’t you go back to sleep, Robbie. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I can't believe you fed me _sportscandy_."  
>  "Says the man who spiked my cough syrup with sugar."

**Author's Note:**

> I have discovered the secret to writing Robbie Rotten's voice and that is _liberal use_ of _italics_ in order to _emphasize_ his _dramatics_.


End file.
